Steve Alexander had warned me not to become complacent about the small East Texas lake where we fished. “You might catch a dink, a dink and another dink, and the next bite may be a quality fish,” he said.
My wife, Emilie, and I had fished on the wrong end of the lake from daylight until midmorning. We’d landed just three fish, two dinks. I lost a fish that looked about five pounds when it jumped but it quickly wrapped around an obstruction and broke me off. When Alexander climbed in the boat with us, he suggested fishing the other end of the 40-acre lake.
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